


They Call it Honor

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: It was considered an "honor", what they did to Sendak's arm. It should make him stronger, better -- a gift fit for a commander of his standing. The new prosthetic arm is an incredible machine. And Haxus despises it.





	They Call it Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for my thoughts on Sendak and Haxus immediately after he's given the prosthetic arm, and I answered it in the form of a ficlet. Galra lore is my jam, and I love these two so much. Hope you enjoy!

They administered the pain suppressants only after the procedure was complete. Haxus hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the lab while it was happening, and that was probably safer for everyone involved. When Ulaz accompanied Sendak’s return to his quarters, he barely met Haxus’s gaze, and he smelled of blood and guilt. Haxus helped ease Sendak down into his nest and Ulaz backed away as soon as he was settled.

“Soon, he will not feel the pain—“

“Get out,” Haxus murmured, his claws digging into his palms. He kept his features neutral, but his tone dripped with venom.

“Yes, sir.” Ulaz quickly departed. Haxus felt certain he and Thace would have words later, but now it was time to focus on Sendak.

His new prosthetic was monstrous. Emperor Zarkon had called this procedure an honor, something to strengthen Sendak’s power in the empire. Sendak needed no help; he was already Zarkon’s personally-trained soldier, with more conquests under his belt than nearly anyone else in the main fleet. He did not need an arm made of metal and quintessence to be great. But the order had been given, and Haxus loathed that Ulaz would so readily carry it through. A rational part of him, one that Thace would speak to when they had the opportunity, understood that Ulaz had no more choice in the matter than Sendak or Haxus. That didn’t make it any easier for him to accept.

Haxus crouched down at the edge of Sendak’s nest and ran his hand over the length of Sendak’s forearm. The metal was cool to the touch, and he recognized Ulaz’s mark in the way he had designed it. Sleek craftsmanship, functional, a touch of the flare that somehow managed to follow the Galra all these long years. From this position, he couldn’t gauge how heavy the new limb was, what kind of toll it was already taking on Sendak’s body. The main port had been built into his shoulder, and the slow-burn glow of pure quintessence connecting it to the elbow port made the fur on Haxus’s nape stand on end. Sendak would have to learn how to use this arm all over again.

As if Sendak could sense him near, his head turned, eyes opening slightly. He couldn’t focus, the struggle of it showed in the crease of his brow.

“Teacher—“

“I am here. Rest, Sendak. You need to recover.”

“The pain…”

“It will ease soon, be patient.”

Sendak’s brow scrunched up even further, and Haxus remembered such a stubborn expression on a more youthful and rebellious cub in his first years of training. “They said…it was an honor.”

Haxus had never heard his voice so thin before. Once more, his fists clenched up so tightly he could feel pricks of pain in his palm. With any luck, Sendak would not remember being in this state. He forced his voice to stay level, sincere in spite of his anger. “I am proud of you, Sendak.”

Those words seemed to ease the tension tangled up in Sendak’s face. His ears, pinned back only a moment ago, flickered and relaxed again. His eyes closed, and he once more slipped back into drug-induced slumber. Haxus let out the breath he had been holding and his shoulders sagged. It wasn’t defeat, but rather exhaustion and worry. How much more would Sendak be able to take before the Empire destroyed him. One way or another, that end seemed to be coming quickly for him. If it wouldn’t be at the hands of a battle Sendak wasn’t meant to fight, it would be at the will of Zarkon himself – who would keep letting his druids make monsters out of warriors and call it honor. Haxus feared honor had fallen far away from the emperor, and soon Haxus and others like him would be the only ones grasping at what the Galra were.

Sendak began to snore softly; Haxus’s ears twitched toward it, the sound comforting. He relaxed his hands and placed one of them over Sendak’s prosthetic fingers. He would not shy away from this. He would stay right where he always had – at the commander’s side.


End file.
